Summary: Ever wonder how Kurt came to be with the X-men? A little look into his past pre-X-men Evolution.
Disclaimer: No, just…no.
Kurt was standing next to his bedroom window, looking out it sadly. Outside, he saw a wide stretch of farming field, and in the distance, soft lights that illuminated some of the village buildings. He could hear music floating up from the village, thanks to his acute ears. The music and lights beckoned him. The town was having a fall festival, and he wanted to go. He just wanted to jump out the window and run towards them…..
Kurt was 15. In all his years, he'd never been into town once. He wasn't allowed to leave the house, except at night and only then he couldn't go more than a few feet away from the house. His parents liked to keep a close eye on him. They always worried that someone might see him and ruin their secret.
He sighed at the thought, glancing down at his blue tridactyl hands. That was why he couldn't leave the house. Blue fur, three fingered hands, pointed ears, glowing eyes, and most prominently, a whip-like spaded tail. If anyone saw him—and he had been seen several times before but luckily his parents and their friends had contained it—it could cause chaos. Sighing again, Kurt looked back out the window.
He longed to be there at the festival with the townspeople. He could hardly imagine going out in public, unafraid to be beaten or stoned or shot at. The thought almost made him sick with longing. All that separated him from that blissful, free life was his appearance. His horrible, demonic appearance.
"Kurt, what are you doing?" a soft voice asked from the doorway to his room. Kurt didn't look away from the window.
"I'm watching the festival, mom," he replied. His golden eyes filled with the warmth he saw in the distant lights. His mother, small and slender, came up beside him and wrapped a tiny arm around him. He was only 15, but he was already a head taller than she was. "It looks like fun," Kurt muttered longingly. His mother heard the desire in his voice. He gently turned his face away from the window with a small hand.
"Yes, but you know you can't go, honey," she reminded him, staring straight into his soft eyes. His face fell a little. He knew all too well. His striking fur and eyes were perfect reminders of why he could never go out in public.
"I know, mom," he whispered. His mother nodded and led him away from the window.
"Come on, Kurt. Come downstairs and eat some dinner," she said, trying to sound cheery to draw Kurt out of his sadness. It worked. Kurt smiled at the edge of his mouth. "There's my smile, ja?" his mother chirped, messing up his shaggy black hair with her hand. The smile widened.
"What's for dinner?"
"Vegetable soup. And don't make that face at me," she added as his expression shifted to one of disdain. "You'll like it."
"Ja, and that's what you said when you made me try that squid from Hamburg," he teased, following her into the kitchen.
After dinner—which hadn't been too bad after all—Kurt retreated to his room. He sat on the floor near his window and went back to staring at the distant festival lights. He felt the tugging, longing sensation from earlier, and he wanted so badly to go.
I could do it, he thought rebelliously. It wouldn't be that hard. All he had to do was imagine being there, and he would be. He'd been able to teleport from a very young age, and it was a handy ability.
I'd have to walk, he decided, working out a plan in his head. Don't want to scare anyone.
A few minutes later, he had his brilliant plan ready to go. He would climb out his window, sneak over to the nearby field and use it for cover as he got close enough to the festival to watch it from a comfortable distance. It seemed perfect. Now all that he had to do was instigate it.
Easier thought than done, he mused, opening up his window and looking down two stories. His breath caught in his throat. He'd never disobeyed his parents—not for something this serious. If he got caught, it would be very bad.
It's not far, he encouraged himself. He closed his eyes. Yes, but he was still doing a bad thing. No! He'd been locked inside for too long. This rebellion was good for him. He needed to get out of the house. Just do it, Wagner.
Finally, he took a breath and jumped out the window, landing softly and easily on the earthy ground. He looked around, grinned widely, and dashed away into the grassy field. ~
Kurt stalked through the high grasses of the field, feeling pretty good about his decision. He was outside and away from his house for the first time in forever. He so rarely left the house and had this freedom. It was great. The feel of the grass on his chest and legs. The cool soil beneath his feet. The blowing wind in his hair…he inhaled the night air, sighing happily as he did so.
The music got closer. It was still about 2 miles away, but it was easier to hear now. It floated along with the wind, lingering in the air like perfume. Kurt thought about teleporting closer, but he was smart enough to lay low. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself. Walking was a good idea, Wagner, he thought, pleased with his adventure so far. It was the most exciting thing that had happened to him in months.
Kurt saw a large, twisted tree up ahead through the grass. He knew that tree. It marked the edge of the Vistoff's property, for one, but was a mark of exactly 2 miles from the outskirts of town. He drew closer to it. The grass thinned out a little, and a few steps later, he found himself at the edge of the clearing around the tree.
To his immense surprise, there were two boys in their twenties, leaning against the tree, having a smoke. It was too late to go back. Both boys saw him and cried out in surprise.
"Demon!" one of them screamed. He dropped his cigarette and ran at Kurt like an angry bull. Kurt, panicked and afraid, turned and ran off into the high grass. He was used to people running away from him, not running after him. His panic only heightened as he heard the footfall of both boys. They were older, taller, and stronger, and they gained on him despite his unsual speed and agility.
One of the boys tackled him to the ground, and the other stopped a few feet short. The boy who was still standing helped his buddy up, then pulled a very dazed but frightened Kurt to his feet and started beating him. The other boy joined in, saying, "Demon, monster. Freak!"
Kurt couldn't do anything. "Leave me alone!" he screamed over and over until his voice finally broke. He was too scared to teleport anywhere.
The blows continued to come. Each strike was hellacious enough to make him want to curl up and die. His ribs took the most hits, and after a minute, he was coughing up blood. "God, leave me alone," he said in a broken whisper. A sharp blow came to his shoulder. He cried out and spasmed in pain.
"Shut up, demon!" one of the thugs snarled, landing another blow on his shoulder.
Kurt closed his eyes as warm tears streamed down his face. What did I do to deserve this?
It was near midnight. Kristofer and Astrid were sleeping peacefully, when Astrid suddenly woke and sat up in bed. Her hands flew to her chest. Her heart rate shot up. Kristofer rolled over, disturbed by her movements, and woke up himself. (1)
"Astrid? What is it?" he asked groggily. Astrid inhaled and looked around.
"I don't know," she said as she crawled out of bed. "But something's not right." She could feel it. Something was wrong, and it was tugging at her. She closed her eyes, trying to think what it might be. Kurt. He came into her mind suddenly, and she dashed out of the bedroom and upstairs. A very confused Kristofer followed her.
"Love, what is it?" he called after her.
Astrid stopped suddenly in the doorway of Kurt's room. Kristofer stopped beside her and let out a tiny gasp. Kurt's bed was made up. Empty. His windows were wide open and a light breeze played with the curtains.
"Oh no," Kristofer blurted out.
"Kris, find him," Astrid said, gathering her thoughts together.
Kristofer ran back downstairs and threw on a jacket and some boots. He grabbed a flashlight and headed for the door. Astrid caught him by the arm, stopping him for a moment.
"I think he went to the festival," she told him quickly. "He was showing interest in it earlier today. Find our son quickly, please," she added in a frightened whisper. Her husband nodded, kissed her on the forehead, and bolted out the door.
Kristopher made his way through the fields to the village. He too heard the music and saw the lights in the distance. He could imagine Kurt wanting to go and be near that. Despite his usually playful personality, Kris and Astrid knew he didn't like being locked inside all the time. It drove him crazy. For a moment, Kristofer felt a wave of guilt wash over him. Kurt had left out of rebellion, something that could have been avoided.
As he drew nearer to the village, Kris suddenly stopped as he heard a loud scream fill the air. He recognized the scream as one of fear and pain, and he ran towards it blindly. His heart sunk with every step.
He came to a place where the grass thinned and was only knee-high. His eyes were met with a horrible sight. Two tall, thick boys were beating Kurt—his son—with their bare hands. His heart jumped into his throat but his fatherly instructs took over.
He grabbed the closest boy and pulled him backwards, knocking him off balance. The boy stumbled around for a moment, not expecting a punch in the face. He cried out and ran off. The other boy took one look at Kristofer, tall, powerful, and angry, and bolted away like a rabbit. Kristofer watched them run off for a moment, then knelt down to assess his son.
Kurt was lying in a tight ball, his hands clutching his head to protect it. He whimpered pathetically and coughed up a mouthful of blood. Gently, carefully, Kris attempted to pick the boy up. Kurt groaned in protest.
"Don't touch me!" he cried out.
Kris put his hand on his son's head. "Kurt, you're alright," he said as calmingly as he could. "Let me help you."
Kurt coughed up more blood, then nodded painfully. He winced as Kris scooped him up, but was quiet after that. Kris worried as he started the long walk home. Kurt was limp, deadweight. His breathing was ragged and shallow, and whenever he tried to take a deep breath, he coughed up thick, red blood. After a few minutes, he stopped whimpering, and after a few minutes more, he stopped moving altogether except for his breathing.
Kris walked faster. His heart pounded. This couldn't be happening. Not to his son. He closed his eyes in pain. But of course it was happening to his son. His son looked like a demon to most people. Kristofer, of course, never saw him like that, but he knew other people always would. It made his hear ache more.
Up ahead, he finally saw the light from his house. He could see Astrid standing in the doorway, looking around nervously. He walked faster until he was only a few hundred feet away. Astrid spotted him and took a few steps toward him.
"Astrid!" Kristofer called as he trudged within earshot of his wife. "Call Dr. Albert. Kurt's in bad shape."
(1) I can't remember what Kurt's parents' names are, so I made them up.
I know, I know. Elf abuse. I'm terrible. Poor Kurt….
Yes, there will be more soon. I'll take you up to the point when Kurt actually gets the mansion. It should be awesome. R&R
-The Ember Raven